


as the vines contemn the frost

by gwendolynflight



Category: The Magicians (TV)
Genre: Double Penetration in One Hole, M/M, Penny's POV, Ritual Sex, Threesome - M/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-24
Updated: 2018-07-24
Packaged: 2019-06-15 10:48:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,085
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15411255
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gwendolynflight/pseuds/gwendolynflight
Summary: After nearly everyone has been rescued from the Library, Penny, Quentin and Eliot have to enact a ritual to rescue Margo from her prison. Post Season 3 AU.





	as the vines contemn the frost

**Author's Note:**

> This was for the Bingo challenge, week 2 Truth (sacrifice and kink squares), but I kind of forgot to post it. Sorry!

They used Eliot’s room for the ritual. It wasn’t quite neutral ground, but Eliot was accustomed to having his space used for semi-random sex, so it had the best energy, Penny found. Quentin’s room was all Fillory merch and sadness, even now, and they couldn’t use Penny’s room, obviously. For one, he hadn’t reclaimed his room with the other Psychic kids, because he hated them. Really he was rooming with Kady these days, and he certainly wasn’t going to fuck these two idiots in her bed. 

It was the summer solstice. The bed was ringed with candles, pots of soil and flowering plants, small piles of gold and mounds of sand. The timing was right, the words all said. All that was left was the spell itself.

They’d been working up to this for days, until Quentin could take most of Eliot’s hand and still come. Penny hadn’t really taken part in the preparations. Hadn’t realized how elegantly Quentin’s back could curve, how the weakness Penny despised became a surprisingly beautiful submission, his hesitance melting into heat as Eliot fingered him open. And now Quentin sat frozen astride Eliot, bracing himself with a punishing grip on Eliot’s biceps, back like a bowed length of steel that quivered whenever Eliot moved in him, and Penny felt a completely unexpected bolt of lust. Penny slid a hand around to Quentin’s belly, feeling the tension there, the strain to hold still, and nudged Quentin’s thighs a little wider with his knees.

Eliot had used most of a bottle of lube preparing Quentin earlier, but Penny squeezed out another dollop of lubricant, remembering all of Eliot’s repeated, paranoid mutterings about Quentin’s size, about Quentin tearing like paper. They were all a little nervous, Eliot’s hands white with strain on Quentin’s thighs, taut and already painted with bruises. Penny dripped lube at the base of Eliot’s cock, slicked it around the shaft where he entered Quentin, ignoring Eliot’s hiss and shiver and working a finger into Quentin.

Quentin’s tense back tensed further (which hadn’t seemed possible), and all three men froze in place. 

“Q?” Eliot asked, rubbing his hand up and down Quentin’s thigh in a gentling touch. Quentin was stiff, too rigid, every muscle frozen with anticipatory fear. “Are you good?” Unspoken, could they keep going?

“Hmm,” Quentin managed, low in his throat.

Penny hitched closer, his own cock heavy against the back of his hand, the single finger he’d levered inside Quentin pressed between Eliot’s cock and the tightly-flexed walls of Quentin’s hole, both pulsing out of time. 

Quentin nodded, sagged, and Penny used the arm hooked around Quentin's waist to pull him back against his chest. Quentin’s hands slid limply from their grip on Eliot, and his head fell back onto Penny’s shoulder. 

“Relax,” Penny growled in Quentin’s ear, and Quentin took in a stuttering breath, his first since Penny had entered him, chest heaving beneath Penny’s hand.

The crushing heat around his finger relented, loosened a fraction, and Penny slid another in before Quentin could work himself into another panic. Both of Eliot’s hands were stroking Quentin’s thighs now, soothing, and Penny scissored his fingers, pulled, and slipped the head of his cock in place.

He got his fingers out just in time, the switch almost seamless, but Quentin stiffened against him all over again, squeezing down on both cocks, mouth gaped open in a rictus of pain that arched his back against Penny’s grip. A grunt escaped him, and he’d stopped breathing again, damnit, Eliot’s hands gone white-knuckled on Quentin’s thighs. Penny stayed as still as he could, rode out the pain stroking his hand down Quentin’s belly to his limp cock, circling his other arm around Quentin’s chest to take more of his weight.

“Breathe, man,” Penny reminded him, and after a moment Quentin’s lungs unfroze enough to drag in a shallow breath, then another.

All at once he relaxed, flopping in Penny’s grip like a string-cut puppet, head lolling on Penny’s shoulder, mouth open and gasping now like there wasn’t enough air in the world, but soft, mostly free of pain.

Penny slid in another inch, maybe, taking every bit of space he could, back bowed awkwardly from being this close and only partially inside. Quentin tensed again, the compression weaker this time, and Eliot was murmuring something encouraging and Quentin was clinging with both hands to the arm Penny had braced around Quentin’s chest. Penny hitched forward, gained a little more space to breathe except now a pained moan escaped Quentin, almost too quiet to be heard, and Penny stilled, ignored the growing ache in his lower spine, tightened his grip on Quentin and lowered his head to kiss the sharp corner of Quentin’s jaw.

Quentin let out something like a whine, high and desperate, and his hips moved for the first time since they’d begun, a restless twitch and he got one arm up to hook his fingers in Penny’s close cropped hair, gaining that little bit of leverage. He straightened up and back into Penny’s hold, pushing his head against Penny’s shoulder, and Penny could feel the strain in him. Quentin’s heart thundered against Penny’s chest, his hair damp against Penny’s neck, their bodies slicked with sweat between them. 

“I can’t,” Quentin began, tossing his head, his grip in Penny’s hair tightening. 

“I knew I should’ve been in the middle,” Eliot fretted, and Quentin actually chuffed out a laugh, a spasm that left him damn-near relaxed enough to –

Penny was inside.

Not to the root, Eliot had done his calculations and estimated they’d never both fit completely inside, something about angles Penny tried desperately to remember because they had to come together, and damned if he’d be the one to come before Quentin had even gotten hard. Quentin’s whole body was shuddering, shaking itself apart with the strain, Eliot trying to hush him even as a flush worked up his pale chest, the heat and pressure getting to him. 

“You can do this, Coldwater,” Penny said into his ear, rubbing his thin chest gently. Quentin’s skin felt almost clammy beneath his hand, and so Penny almost wasn’t surprised when Quentin went boneless again and slumped in Penny’s hold. 

“Q?” Eliot yelped, hands moving to help support Quentin’s weight.

Quentin moaned weakly. His weight dragged at Penny’s hold, and with Eliot’s help, Penny lowered Quentin down onto Eliot’s chest. Crouched above them both, Penny looked down at Eliot’s concerned frown and Quentin’s squinted eyes, and felt an unaccustomed tenderness for these two idiots. The angle was slightly better, anyway, and he supposed this position would be close enough. It let Penny sink a little deeper, into the crushing heat. Quentin let out another slightly pathetic moan. His fingers clenched on nothing. His spine twisted very slightly, then relaxed. Watching these small movements, Penny wanted very badly to fuck deeper into Quentin, wanted to move, wanted to come. He bit his lip, hard, hoping the pain would help him hold off.

“Q?” Eliot murmured, putting a hand on his shoulder. Penny could see the strain in his grip. “Q, can we keep going?”

They all knew what was at stake.

“Come on, Coldwater,” Penny muttered. “Pull yourself together.”

Quentin whined, a high, broken sound that went straight to Penny’s cock. He thrust forward, almost without meaning to, and Quentin _shouted_ , spine going rigid. 

“Can we move,” Eliot pleaded, “can we, Q?”

“Mmhm,” Quentin said, shoulders stiff. “Yeah, yeah, do it.”

Penny took him at his word, and rolled his hips. Quentin opened so prettily beneath him, and such pretty sounds poured from between his lips. Penny could only move faster, gripping Quentin’s narrow hips and thrusting into him while Eliot tried his best to hold still. Penny looked down at where both their cocks pierced Quentin’s smaller body, watched his own cock pumping into the reddening hole, stretched so wide it looked … vulnerable. Had to look away, fight the stutter of his hips. He leaned over Quentin, spread himself over Quentin’s straining back. Mouthed at Quentin’s thin shoulders.

Eliot made a muffled sound of want. “Jesus,” he hissed, holding himself rigid.

“It’s okay,” Quentin slurred. He sounded almost drunk with it. “You can move. You can both move.”

Crushed by their weight, Eliot wouldn’t be moving far. Penny forced himself upright, changing the angle of his thrusts so that Quentin cried out and driven to it, Eliot jerked his hips up. He couldn’t move far, but took the extra inches into Quentin’s body with a fierceness that didn’t surprise Penny at all. And that felt even better, damn, their cocks sliding against each other in the unbelievably tight space, the friction and heat and his cock sliding smoothly through the lube and Quentin was sweating everywhere, hell, Penny was sweating everywhere, Eliot carding both hands through Quentin’s hair, over and over, something almost desperate about it, and Quentin was so pliant between them, moaning constantly now, his hands coming up to scrabble at Eliot’s shoulders. 

Feeling the urge to move, to shift, Penny grabbed at Quentin’s sides, his shoulders, getting both hands under Quentin’s arms and levering him back up, Quentin whinging the whole way, “No, wait, Penny,” fingers catching at Eliot’s pale skin but then Penny had him up, back to Penny’s chest and the changed angle drove both cocks so much deeper in him and Quentin was opening around them now, gasping in pure pleasure, still limp between them but his hips moving very minutely, the tiniest shifts. 

Penny tried thrusting again, just once. Quentin howled, and Eliot grabbed at Quentin’s thighs for leverage and thrust up into him, too, and Quentin was sobbing, Penny having to hold him up with both arms wrapped around his belly and chest like a hug. He hooked his chin over Quentin’s shoulder, saw his cock hard and straining, finally, finally, and he could move.

Penny snapped his hips upward, reveling in the freedom of motion and Quentin’s steady cries, Eliot watching them both with lust burning in his eyes and waiting, patiently waiting until it was time, and Penny drove them there, gripping Quentin tighter and Quentin grabbed onto his forearms again, straining against him this time, arching his back as it crept closer.

“Is it time?” Eliot panted, the cords in his neck standing out. “Is it?”

“Okay, okay, go,” Quentin shouted.

Penny said the last part of the spell, chanting under his breath as Eliot reached up to jack Quentin's cock and Penny thrust deeper as they both moaned beneath him and

it was enough. 

They came together, shouting. And the energy filled the room and charged the lines of force, crackling with energy bright as the sun, and in the center of the circle 

Margo appeared.

“It's about fucking time,” she yelled. Bedraggled, damp, streaks of dirt on her pretty face. 

Penny snorted.

In front of him, Quentin was trying to hide. Eliot waved to Margo, a slightly limp wiggling of his fingers.

Penny pulled out, a small stream of come slipping out of Quentin's loosened hole. Quentin squeaked, mortified, his cheeks and neck and back going bright red. With a groan, he sank down onto Eliot's chest. Eliot patted his back, a small commiseration. He was still inside Quentin, and Margo was shaking dirt out of the folds of her skirt.

Wiping himself with a rag, Penny waved a careless hand toward them on his way to the door.

“Thank you,” Margo called after him, sounding slightly sarcastic. 

“Whatever,” he said, pausing. “Least I could do, after the Library.”

Quentin flinched guiltily. Penny wouldn't ever tell Quentin that the guilt trip he’d tried hadn't been Penny’s reason for helping. Might as well let the nerd squirm.

“Well, still,” Margo said. “Thanks.” She sounded sincere, but also uncomfortable about it. Her wards were good enough he couldn't tell which it was. “I owe you one.”

“Hey,” Eliot objected.

“Oh, shush,” Margo snapped. And he did.

Penny shifted uncomfortably, thinking of his clothes in the next room. “Really, don't worry about it. You don't owe me anything.”

Awkwardly, Eliot chose that moment to pull out of Quentin, who promptly rolled himself in the blanket like a burrito, just his hair showing.

Penny rolled his eyes. But Margo was laughing, the first carefree sound she’d made, and Penny softened. “Later, nerds,” he said, and left them to reconnect.

The sound of Margo's laughter followed him into the hallway, Eliot's deeper voice chiming in, and Penny couldn't regret anything he'd done that night.


End file.
